


Comfort In My Arms

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 20:55:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9022276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Phasma knows he needs it, today.





	

She sees, sometimes, that the smile he gives her… it isn’t that it’s fake, or false. No, it’s that it’s there alongside warring sorrow he tries so hard to keep from her. Phasma knows enough to understand that there’s parts of his life she will never truly comprehend. There’s whole sections that - no matter how honest he tries to be, and if he doesn’t hide it for her own ‘sake’ - she’s not got the experience of his world and past to fully process. 

Not that she needs to. She sees the sad boy in the shadows around his eyes, or the shifting pitch to his voice. It’s then she knows he’ll try hardest of all to please her, and when _he_ needs it most. He gives, when he wants to take. It’s one of many things she loves about him. 

Phasma allows him to kiss and cuddle her, but then she urges his face lower, into the soft plump of her breasts. For some reason he likes it there, and she strokes his hair as he rubs his cheek at her boobs, revelling in the silky feel of his lips against her as he still keeps up his attempt to make her feel good.

Making him surrender completely is difficult: he doesn’t like to take more than he gives, so she measures her plan of attack. Allows him the freedom of his mouth, and then surges to kneel over him. His hands support her waist, and his lips find a nipple. He sucks it taut away from her, his hands gliding over her curves and tugging sighs of pleasure from her. 

Phasma’s hands traverse his shoulders, easing over the mined-deep lines and following the sighs and winces and tightening teeth on her breast. It’s suckled until it’s tender, and she pulls his head to the other side. 

Once he’s ensconced in his task, she settles her weight on her knees, her toes bent into the mattress as ballast. Slowly, she rides a figure-eight in his lap, letting his hair and hers touch. His cock is already firm enough, but she isn’t about to let him off the hook that easily. She pushes his dick into place so she can drag the space between her lips over it, slicking it oh-so-slowly with her desire. The low touches are good but not enough, though she’s not trying to get off straight away.

[[MORE]]

His full shaft is warm and tempting, and Phasma has to bite her lip as she makes this foreplay as good as possible for him. When he takes her hips in his hands, she freezes in case he intends to pull her off, or pull her _on_ , but instead he works with her gradual slide of their intimate parts close together. He leaves her nipple in favour of kissing her throat, clearly struggling with the split focus. Smirking, she adds in a gentle bounce up and down, making him very aware of what she’s offering him, soon.

“Love…” he begs.   


“Not yet.”  


Another groan, and then she decides to be kind and give him a goal. He works well with those.

“Rub my clit… make me want you inside me. Then I’ll ride you to hyperspace and back.”  


His hand shoots between her legs, fingers greedily parting her and scrabbling like he’s rubbing one off from his own dick. He’s normally slower, more measured, which tells her a lot about his mental state today. It’s nearly a pain, but it does the trick, and she finds the head of his prick and presses it to her entrance.

“Are you ready?” she asks.  


Fierce, fierce agreement.

Phasma tangles her hands behind his neck, then lets gravity pull him into her, as she sinks down. It’s not much of a stretch when she’s horny, but it’s definitely a tangible presence. His hand is only lightly touching all around her clit, now, and she appreciates the mercy. Appreciates, and then mourns, because her walls are clutching and her nub throbbing and this is going to be painfully not fast enough. 

Up, arch, twist, down. Her movements repeat, varying in speed. His hands alternate between touching her clit and stroking where she’s spread wide, or gripping her hip and the other in her hair. 

Back goes his face to her chest, and she curls protectively around him as she rides him with increasing vigour. She’s going to need a lot more stimulation to get off properly, but he’s clearly losing his self-control. He’s fraying, and she picks up her speed accordingly. Her own satisfaction won’t be ignored, she knows, and she’s happy to give him his, first. After all, his tongue licking her clean is always a delicious sin, and when he’s not distracted by his own arousal, his fingers know how to make her **scream**.

Now, she tightens, and she pushes his face into her, and she bounces with what strength she has. Hands grab her, lift and drop, making it almost seem like she’s nothing. Bounce, bounce, bounce… and his climax sights over the horizon, rushing the minute he knows it’s all clear. Pulsing wetness inside, and she continues her bouncing until well after he’s done. 

When he tries to see to her straight off, she slaps his hand. “I can wait ten minutes.”

“Hnnnngh.”  


“Fifteen.”  


Kylo snorts, and she beams. She stays with him deep inside of her, and rolls back and forth just lightly to give him another tease. He makes an ungodly sound against one breast, and tries to pull her down to lie like that. 

If he insists. Of course.


End file.
